


Simon's Demise

by oddikins



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, miss you simon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 19:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4534647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddikins/pseuds/oddikins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the scene in the demon realm with Asmodeus from Jace's point of view and his reaction to Simon losing his memories. Canon universe with just a hint more Jimon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simon's Demise

Jace’s POV

It was done Jace through, Sebastian was dead and the Endarkened along with him. But they were still stuck in a demon realm with no visible means of escaping. 

“Clary” said Isabelle “we need to get back to Idris. I hate to ask, but did Seb—did Jonathan say anything about how to unseal the borders?”

Clary swallowed. “He said it wasn’t possible. That they’re closed forever.”

“So we’re trapped here,” Isabelle said, her dark eyes shocked. “Forever? That can’t be. There must be a spell— Magnus—”

“He wasn’t lying,” Magnus said. “There’s no way for us to reopen the paths from here to Idris.”

There was an awful silence. Then Alec, whose gaze had been resting on Magnus, said, “No way for us?”

“That’s what I said,” Magnus replied. “There’s no way to open the borders.” “No,” said Alec, and there was a dangerous note in his voice. “You said there was no way for us to do it, meaning there might be someone who could.”

Magnus drew away from Alec and looked around at them all. His expression was unguarded, stripped of its usual distance, and he looked both very young and very, very old. His face was a young man’s face, but his eyes had seen centuries pass, and never had Jace been more aware of it. 

“There are worse things than death,” Magnus said.

“Maybe you should let us be the judge of that,” said Alec, and Magnus scrubbed a despairing hand across his face and said, “Dear God. Alexander, I have gone my whole life without ever taking hrecourse to this path, save once, when I learned my lesson. It is not a lesson I want the rest of you to learn.”

“But you’re alive,” said Clary. “You lived through the lesson.”

Magnus smiled an awful smile. “It wouldn’t be much of a lesson if I hadn’t,” he said. “But I was duly warned. Playing dice with my own life is one thing; playing with all of yours—”

“We’ll die here anyway,” said Jace.

“It’s a rigged game. Let us take our chances.”

“I agree,” Isabelle said, and the others chimed in their agreement as well. Magnus looked toward the dais, where Luke and Jocelyn still knelt, and sighed.

“Majority vote,” he said. “Did you know there’s an old Downworlder saying about mad dogs and Nephilim never heeding a warning?”

“Magnus—” Alec began, but Magnus only shook his head and drew himself weakly to his feet. He still wore the rags of the clothes he must have put on for that long-ago dinner at the Fair Folk’s refuge in Idris: the incongruous shreds of a suit jacket and tie. Rings sparkled on his fingers as he brought his hands together, as if in prayer, and closed his eyes.

“My father,” he said, and Jace heard Alec suck in his breath with a gasp. “My father, who art in Hell, unhallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, in Edom as it is in Hell. Forgive not my sins, for in that fire of fires there shall be neither loving kindness, nor compassion, nor redemption. My father, who makes war in high places and low, come to me now; I call you as your son, and incur upon myself the responsibility of your summoning.”

Magnus opened his eyes. He was expressionless. Five shocked faces looked back at him.

“By the Angel—” Alec started.

“No,” said a voice just beyond their huddled group. “Definitely not by your Angel.”

Jace stared. At first he saw nothing, just a shifting patch of shadow, and then a figure evolved out of the darkness. A tall man, as pale as bone, in a pure white suit; silver cuff links gleamed at his wrists, carved in the shape of flies. His face was a human face, pale skin pulled tight over bone, cheekbones sharp as blades. He didn’t have hair so much as a sparkling coronet of barbed wires. His eyes were gold-green, and slitpupilled like a cat’s.

“Father,” said Magnus, and the word was an exhalation of sorrow. “You came.”

The man smiled. His front teeth were sharp, pointed like feline teeth. “My son,” he said. “It has been a long time since you called on me. I was beginning to despair that you ever would again.”

“I hadn’t planned to,” Magnus said dryly. “I called on you once, to determine that you were my father. That once was enough.”

“You wound me,” said the man, and he turned his pointed-tooth smile on the others. “I am Asmodeus,” he said. “One of the Nine Princes of Hell. You may know my name.”

Alec made a short sound, quickly muffled.

“I was a seraphim once, one of the angels indeed,” continued Asmodeus, looking pleased with himself. “Part of an innumerable company. Then came the war, and we fell like stars from Heaven. I followed the Light-Bringer down, the Morning Star, for I was one of his chief advisers, and when he fell, I fell with him. He raised me up in Hell and made me one of the nine rulers. In case you were wondering, it is preferable to rule in Hell than serve in Heaven—I’ve done both.”

“You’re—Magnus’s father?” said Alec in a strangled voice. He turned to Magnus. “When you held the witchlight in the subway tunnel, it flared up in colours—is that because of him?” He pointed at Asmodeus.

“Yes,” Magnus said. He looked very tired. “I warned you, Alexander, that this was something you would not like.”

“I don’t see what the fuss is about. I have been the father of many warlocks,” said Asmodeus. “Magnus has made me the most proud.”

“Who are the others?” Isabelle asked, her dark eyes suspicious.

“What he’s not saying is that they’re mostly dead,” Magnus said. He met his father’s eyes briefly and then looked away, as if he couldn’t stand prolonged eye contact. His thin, sensitive mouth was set in a hard line. “He’s also not telling you that all princes of Hell have a realm they rule; this is his.”

“Since this place—Edom—is your realm,” Jace said, “then you’re responsible for—for what happened here?”

“It is my realm, though I am rarely here,” said Asmodeus with a martyred sigh. “Used to be an exciting place. The Nephilim of this realm put up quite the fight. When they invented the skeptron, I rather thought they might win out at the last moment, but the Jonathan Shadowhunter of this world was a divider, not a uniter, and in the end they destroyed themselves. Everyone does, you know. We demons get the blame, but we only open the door. It is humanity who steps through it.”

“Don’t excuse yourself,” Magnus snapped. “You as much as murdered my mother—”

“She was a willing little piece, I assure you,” said Asmodeus, and Magnus flushed red across his cheekbones. Jace felt a dull pang of shock that it was actually possible to do that to Magnus, to hurt him with barbs about his family. It had been so long, and he was so collected.

But then, perhaps your parents could always hurt you, no matter how old you were.

“Let’s cut to the business part of this,” said Magnus. “You can open a door, correct? Send us through to Idris, back to our world?”

“Would you like a demonstration?” Asmodeus asked, flicking his fingers toward the dais, where Luke was on his feet, looking toward them. Jocelyn seemed about to rise, too. Jace could see the expression of concern on both their faces—just before they winked out of existence. There was a shimmer of air and they both vanished, taking Jonathan’s body with them. Just as they vanished, for a moment, Jace glimpsed the inside of the Accords Hall, the mermaid fountain and the marble floor, and then it was gone, like a tear in the universe sewing itself back up again.

A cry broke from Clary’s throat. 

“Mom!”

“I sent them back to your world,” said Asmodeus. “Now you know.” He examined his nails. 

Clary was panting, half with panic, half with rage. “How dare you—”

“Well, it’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” said Asmodeus. “There, you got the first two for free. The rest, well, it’ll cost you.” He sighed at the looks on the faces around him. “I’m a demon,” he said pointedly. “Really, what do they teach Nephilim these days?”

“I know what you want,” Magnus said in a strained voice. “And you can have it. But you must swear on the Morning Star to send all my friends back to Idris, all of them, and never to bother them again. They will owe you nothing.”

Alec stepped forward. “Stop,” he said. “No—Magnus, what do you mean, what he wants? Why are you talking like you’re not coming back to Idris with us?”

“There is a time,” said Asmodeus, “when we must all return to live in the houses of our fathers. Now is Magnus’s time.”

“‘In my father’s house are many mansions,’” Jace whispered; he looked very pale, and as if he might throw up.

“Magnus. He can’t mean—he doesn’t want to take you back with him? Back to —”

“To Hell? Not precisely,” Asmodeus said. “As Magnus said, Edom is my realm. I shared it with Lilith. Then her brat took it over and laid waste to the grounds, destroyed my keep—it’s in slivers out there. And you murdered half the populace with the skeptron.” The last was addressed to Jace, rather petulantly. “It takes great energy to fuel a realm. We draw from the power of what we have left behind, the great city of Pandemonium, the fire we fell into, but there is a time when life must fuel us. And immortal life is the best of all.”

The numb heaviness weighing Jace’s limbs vanished as he snapped to attention, moving in front of Magnus. He nearly collided with the others. They had all moved just as he had, to block the warlock from his demon father, even Simon. 

“You want to take his life?” Clary asked. “That’s just cruel and stupid, even if you’re a demon. How could you want to kill your own child—?”

Asmodeus laughed. “Delightful,” he said. “Look at them, Magnus, these children who love you and want to protect you! Who would ever have thought it! When you are buried, I will make sure they inscribe it on your tomb: Magnus Bane, beloved of Nephilim.”

“You won’t touch him,” Alec said, his voice like iron. “Maybe you’ve forgotten what it is we do, us Nephilim, but we kill demons. Even princes of Hell.”

“Oh, I know well what you do; my kinsman Abbadon you slew, and our princess Lilith you scattered to the winds of the void, though she will return. She always has a place in Edom.

That is why I allowed her son to set himself up here, though I admit I did not realize what a mess he’d make.”

Asmodeus rolled his eyes; Jace suppressed a shudder. Around the gold green pupils the sclera of his eyes were as black as oil.

“I do not plan to kill Magnus. That would be messy and silly, and besides I could have had his death arranged at any time. It is his life freely given I want, for the life of an immortal has power, great power, and it will help me fuel my kingdom.”

“But he’s your son,” Isabelle protested.

“And he will remain with me,” said Asmodeus with a grin. “In spirit, you might say.”

Alec whirled on Magnus, who stood with his hands in his pockets, scowling.

“He wants to take your immortality?”

“Exactly,” Magnus said.

“But—you’d survive? Just not be immortal anymore?” Alec looked wretched, and Jace could feel his pain. After the reason Alec and Magnus had broken up, Alec certainly didn’t want or need to be reminded that he had once wanted Magnus’s immortality taken away.

“My immortality would be gone,” Magnus said. “All the years of my life would come on me at once. I would be unlikely to survive it. Almost four hundred years is quite a lot to take, even if you moisturize regularly.”

“You can’t,” Alec said, and there was a plea in his voice. “He said ‘a life given willingly.’ Say no.” Magnus raised his head and looked up and over at Alec; it was a look that made Jace flush and glance away. There was so much love in it, mixed with exasperation and pride and despair. It was an unguarded look, and it felt wrong to see it. “I can’t say no,

Alexander,” he said. “If I do, we all remain here; we’ll die anyway. We’ll starve, our ashes turned to dust to plague the demons of the realm.”

“Fine,” Alec said. “There isn’t any one of us who would give up your life to save ours.”

Magnus glanced around at the faces of his companions, dirty and exhausted and brutalized and despairing, and Jace saw the look on Magnus’s face change as he realized that Alec was right. None of them would give up his life to save theirs, even all of theirs.

“I’ve lived a long time,” Magnus said. “So many years, and no, it doesn’t feel like enough. I won’t lie and say it does. I want to live on—partly because of you, Alec. I have never wanted to live so much as I have these past few months, with you.” 

Alec looked stricken. “We’ll die together,” he said. “Let me stay at least, with you.”

“You have to go back. You have to go back to the world.”

“I don’t want the world. I want you,” Alec said, and Magnus closed his eyes, as if the words almost hurt. Asmodeus watched as they spoke, avidly, almost hungrily, and Jace remembered that demons fed on human emotions—fear and joy and love and pain. Most of all, pain.

“You can’t stay with me,” Magnus said after a pause. “There will be no me; the demon will take my life force, and my body will crumble away. Four hundred years, remember.”

“‘The demon,’ ” Asmodeus said, and sniffed. “You could say my name, at least, while you’re boring me.”

Jace resolved then and there that he might hate Asmodeus more than any other demon he had ever met.

“Get on with it, my boy,” Asmodeus added. “I haven’t got all eternity to wait —and neither have you, anymore.”

“I have to save you, Alec,” Magnus said. “You and everyone you love; it’s a small price to pay, isn’t it, in the end, for all of that?”

“Not everyone I love,” Alec whispered, and Jace felt tears pressing behind his eyes and stared unseeing at the floor. He had tried, tried so hard, to be the one who paid the price. It was not fair that Magnus should pay it; Magnus, who had the least part in the story of Nephilim and angels and demons and vengeance, compared to any of the rest of them; Magnus, who was only a part of it all because he loved Alec. “No,” Alec said. Out of the corner of his eye Jace could see them clinging to each other; there was tenderness even in the curve of Magnus’s fingers around Alec’s shoulder as he bent to kiss him. It was a kiss of desperation and clutching more than passion; Magnus held on tightly enough for his fingers to bite into Alec’s arms, but in the end he stepped away, and turned toward his father.

“All right,” Magnus said, and Jace could tell he was bracing himself, nerving himself up as if he were about to throw his body onto a pyre. “All right, take me. I give you my life. I am—”

Simon—Simon, who had been silent till that moment; Simon, who Jace had almost forgotten was there—stepped forward. “I am willing.” Asmodeus’s eyebrows shot up.

“What was that?”

Isabelle seemed to catch on before anyone else. She paled and said, “No, Simon, no!” but Simon went on, his back straight, his chin lifted.

“I also have an immortal life,” he said. “Magnus isn’t the only one. Take mine; take my immortality.”

“Ahhhh,” breathed Asmodeus, his eyes suddenly shining. “Azazel told me of you. A vampire is not interesting, but a Daylighter! You carry the power of the world’s sun in your veins. Sunlight and eternal life, that is a power indeed.”

“Yes,” Simon said. “If you’ll take my immortality instead of Magnus’s, then I give it to you. I am—”

“Simon!” Clary said, but it was already too late.

“I am willing,” he finished, and with a glance around at the rest of the group, he set his jaw, with a look that said, I’ve said. It’s done.

“God, Simon, no,” said Magnus, in a voice of terrible sadness, and he closed his eyes.

“I’m only seventeen,” Simon said. “If he takes my immortality, I’ll live out my life—I won’t die here. I never wanted immortality, I never wanted to be a vampire, I never wanted any of it.”

“You won’t live out your life!” There were tears in Isabelle’s eyes. “If Asmodeus takes your immortality, then you’ll be a corpse, Simon. You’re undead.”

Asmodeus made a rude noise. “You’re a very stupid girl,” he said. “I am a Prince of Hell. I can break down the walls between worlds. I can build worlds and destroy them. You think I can’t reverse the transformation that turns a human to a vampire? You think I can’t make his heart beat again? Child’s play.”

“But why would you do that?” Clary said, bewildered. “Why would you make it so that he lived? You’re a demon. You don’t care—”

“I don’t care. But I want,” said Asmodeus. “There is one more thing I want from you. One more item to sweeten the deal.” He grinned, and his teeth glimmered like sharp crystals.

“What?” Magnus’s voice shook. 

“What is it you want?”

“His memories,” said Asmodeus.

“Azazel took a memory from each of us, as payment for a favour,” Alec said.

“What is it with you demons and memories?”

“Human memories, freely given, are like food to us,” said Asmodeus. “Demons live on the cries and agony of the damned in torment. Imagine then, how nice a change of pace a feast of happy memories is. Mixed together, they are delicious, the sour and the sweet.” He looked around, his cat’s eyes glittering. “And I can already tell there will be many happy memories to take, little vampire, for you are much loved, are you not?”

Simon looked strained. He said, “But if you take my memories, who will I be? I don’t—”

“Well,” said Asmodeus. “I could take every memory you have and leave you a drooling idiot, I suppose, but really, who wants the memories of a baby? Dull, dull. The question is, what would be the most fun? Memories are delicious, but so is pain. What would cause the most pain to your friends, here? What would remind them to fear the power and the wit of demons?” He clasped his hands behind his back. Each of the buttons of his white suit was carved in the shape of a fly.

“I promised my immortality,” Simon said. “Not my memories. You said ‘freely given’—”

“God in Hell, the banality,” said Asmodeus, and he moved, as swift as a lick of flame, to seize Simon by the forearm. Isabelle darted forward, as if to catch hold of Simon, and then flinched back with a gasp. A red welt had appeared across her cheek. She put her hand to it, looking shocked.

“Leave her alone,” Simon snapped, and wrenched his arm out of the demon’s grip.

“Downworlder,” the demon breathed, and touched his long, spidery fingers to Simon’s cheek. “You must have had a heart that beat so strong in you, when it still beat.”

“Let him go,” Jace said, drawing his sword. “He is ours, not yours; the Nephilim protect what belongs to us—”

“No!” Simon said. He was shivering all over, but his back was straight. 

“Jace, don’t. This is the only way.”

“Indeed it is,” said Asmodeus. “For none of you can fight a Prince of Hell in his place of power; not even you, Jace Herondale, child of angels, or you, Clarissa Fairchild, with your tricks and runes.” He moved his fingers, slightly; Jace’s sword burned red hot and he dropped it with a grimace. Asmodeus spared him only a glance before raising his hand again.

“There is the gateway. Look.” He gestured toward the wall, which shimmered and came clear. Through it Jace could see the hazy outlines of the Hall of Accords. There were the bodies of the Endarkened, lying on the ground in heaps of scarlet, and there were the Shadowhunters, running, stumbling, hugging, embracing one another— victory after the battle. And there were Clary’s mother and Luke, looking around in bewilderment. They were still in the same position they had been in on the dais: Luke standing, Jocelyn kneeling with her son’s body in her arms. Other Shadowhunters were only just beginning to glance toward them, surprised, as if they had appeared out of nowhere—which they had.

“There is everything you want,” said Asmodeus, as the gateway flickered and went dark. “And in return I shall take the Daylighter’s immortality, and along with it, his memories of the Shadow World— all his memories of all of you, of all he has learned, of all he has been. That is my desire.”

Simon’s eyes widened; Jace felt sick. Magnus looked as if someone had stabbed him.

“There it is,” he whispered. “The trick at the heart of the game. There always is one, with demons.”

Isabelle looked incredulous. “Are you saying you want him to forget us?”

“Everything about you, and that he ever knew you,” said Asmodeus. “I offer you this in exchange. He will live. He will have the life of an ordinary mundane. He will have his family back; his mother, his sister. Friends, school, all the trappings of a normal human life.”

Jace looked at Simon desperately. He was shaking, clenching and unclenching his hands. He said nothing.

“Absolutely not,” said Jace. 

“Fine. Then you’ll all die here. You really don’t have much leverage, little Shadowhunter. What are memories when weighed against such a great cost of life?”

“You’re talking about who Simon is,” said Clary. “You’re talking about taking him away from us forever.”

“Yes. Isn’t it delightful?” Asmodeus smiled.

“This is ridiculous,” said Isabelle. “Say you do take his memories. What’s to stop us from tracking him down and telling him about the Shadow World? Introducing him to magic? We did it before, we can do it again.”

“Before, he knew you, knew and trusted Clary,” said Asmodeus. “Now he will know none of you. You will all be strangers to him, and why should he listen to mad strangers? Besides, you know Covenant Law as well as I do. You will be breaking it, telling him about the Shadow World for no reason at all, and endangering his life. There were special circumstances before. Now there will not be. The Clave will strip all your runes if you try it.”

“Speaking of the Clave,” said Jace. “They’re not going to be too pleased if you toss a mundane back out into a life where everyone he knows thinks he’s a vampire. All Simon’s friends know! His family knows! His sister, his mother. They’ll tell him, even if we don’t.”

“I see.” Asmodeus looked displeased. “That does complicate things. Perhaps I should take Magnus’s immortality after all—”

“No,” Simon said. He looked shocked, sick on his feet, but his voice was determined. Asmodeus looked at him with covetous eyes.

“Simon, shut up,” Magnus said desperately. “Take me instead, Father —”

“I want the Daylighter,” said Asmodeus. “Magnus, Magnus. You’ve never quite understood what it is to be a demon, have you? To feed on pain? But what is pain? Physical torment, that’s so dull; any garden-variety demon can do that. To be an artist of pain, to create agony, to blacken the soul, to turn pure motives to filth, and love to lust and then to hate, to turn a source of joy to a source of torture, that is what we exist for!” His voice rang out. “I shall go forth into the mundane world. I will strip the memories of those close to the Daylighter. They will remember him only as mortal. They will not remember Clary at all.”

“No!” Clary shouted, and Asmodeus threw his head back and laughed, a dazzling laugh that made her remember that once he had been an angel.

“You can’t take our memories,” said Isabelle furiously. “We’re Nephilim. It would be tantamount to an attack. The Clave—”

“Your memories you may keep,” said Asmodeus. “Nothing about your remembering Simon will get me in trouble with the Clave, and besides, it will torment you, which only doubles my pleasure.” He grinned. “I shall rip a hole through the heart of your world, and when you feel it, you will think on me and remember me. Remember!”

Asmodeus pulled Simon close, his hand sliding up to press against Simon’s chest, as if he could reach through his rib cage into his heart. “We begin here. Are you ready, Daylighter?”

“Stop!” Isabelle stepped forward, her whip in hand, her eyes burning. “We know your name, demon. Do you think I am afraid to slay even a Prince of Hell? I would hang your head on my wall like a trophy, and if you dare touch Simon, I will hunt you down. I will spend my life hunting you—” Alec wrapped his arms around his sister, and held her tightly. “Isabelle,” he said quietly. “No.”

“What do you mean, no?” Clary demanded. “We can’t let this happen— Jace—”

“This is Simon’s choice.” Jace stood stock-still; he felt faint at the thought of what he was saying. His eyes were locked on Simon’s. “We have to honour it.” Simon looked back at Jace, and inclined his head. His eyes filled with pain and gratitude.

His gaze was moving slowly over all of them, flicking from Magnus to Alec, to Isabelle, where it lingered, filled with broken possibilities. And then his gaze moved to Clary There was so much in his expression, so many years of so much love, so many whispered secrets and promises and shared dreams. Jace saw him reach down, and then something bright arced through the air toward Clary. She reached up and caught it, reflexively. It was the golden ring Clary had given him. Lastly Simons gaze fell of Jace. With their eyes locked Simon reached up and took Jordan’s pendant from around his neck and tossed it to Jace. “Look after this for me would you?” he asked with a small, sad smile as Jace caught the pendant. Jace griped the metal so tightly it dug into his palm and gave Simon a small nod, not trusting himself to speak. 

“Enough,” said Asmodeus. “I hate good-byes.” And he tightened his grip on Simon. Simon gasped, his eyes flying wide open; his hand went to his chest.

“My heart—” he gasped, and Jace knew, knew from the look on his face, that it had started beating again. He blinked against tears as a white mist exploded up around them. He heard Simon cry out in pain; he saw Clary moving towards Simon but reached and caught her wrapping his arms around her, even as the mist circled around Simon and the demon like a small tornado, half-blocking them from view. 

Shapes began to appear in the mist as it thickened. Jace saw Clary and Simon as children, holding hands, crossing a street in Brooklyn; she had barrettes in her hair and Simon was adorably rumpled, his glasses sliding off his nose. He saw Simon with Clary in Java Jones, listening to his friend’s terrible poetry, and on the back of a flying motorcycle as it crashed into a parking lot, with Jace there, looking at them, his eyes squinted against the sun. And there was Simon with Isabelle, his hands curved around her face, kissing her, and he could see Isabelle as Simon saw her: fragile and strong, and so, so beautiful. And there was Valentine’s ship, Simon kneeling on Jace, blood on his mouth and shirt, and blood at Jace’s throat, and there was the cell in Idris, and Hodge’s weathered face, Clary etching the Mark of Cain onto his forehead. Simon with Jace and Jordan playing video games at their apartment and Simon at night watching Jace sleep in his window, the moonlight reflecting off his blonde hair. Maureen, and her blood on the floor, and her little pink hat, and the rooftop in Manhattan where Lilith had raised Sebastian, and Clary was passing him a gold ring across a table, and an Angel was rising out of a lake before him, and he was kissing Isabelle . . .  
All Simon’s memories, his memories of magic, his memories of all of them, being drawn out and spun into a skein. It shimmered, as white-gold as daylight. There was a sound all around them, like a gathering storm, but Jace barely heard it. He held Clary tighter as he heard her begging. “Please“And then the edge of the storm caught them. And he was lifted up, and whirled away.  
He saw the stone room recede into the distance at a terrible speed, and the storm took Clary’s cries for Simon and turned them into a sound like the ragged tearing of wind. Clary was torn from Jace’s grasp and he was alone in the chaos, and for a moment he thought Asmodeus had lied to them after all, that there was no gateway, and that they would float in this nothingness forever until they died. And then the ground came up, fast. He saw the floor of the Accords Hall, hard marble veined with gold, before he hit it. With the skill of o practised shadowhunter he rolled to his feet and took in his surroundings. They were back in the Accords Hall as promised. Clary and Isabelle were laying on the ground a couple of meters away from him looking dazed, tears streaming down their cheeks. Alec was standing with Magnus who looked sick and exhausted but alive. 

Simon. Jace spun around looking for him but couldn’t see him anywhere. Simon was really gone. 

Jace looked down at his hand which still held Jordan’s pendant. He heard himself let out a choked gasp, he needed to get out of here. He turned and ran out of the door and down the steps. As he went he thought he heard someone call his name but he didn’t stop, he just kept running until he reached the back of the Accords Hall where he lent against the wall and tried to steady his breathing. 

He was angry, angry at Asmodeus for taking Simon, but most of all he was angry with himself for letting it happen. He had tried so hard to keep them all safe so that they could all come back home together but he had failed. One of them hadn’t made it.

Jace let out a cry and smashed his fits into the wall. He drew it back for a second hit but someone behind him caught his wrist and forced him to turn round. It was Alec.

“Why is it” asked Alec with a sad smile “that whenever something happens to Simon your first response is to punch a wall?” 

“Maybe because when something happens to him it’s usually my fault.” Jace replied in a monotone.

“How was what happened with the inquisitor your fault?” asked Alec.

“If it had been anyone else that brought him through the portal they wouldn’t have questioned his motives.” Replied Jace, his voice sounding very distant “I should have gone with him to the inquisitor, I should have known that something was up.”

Alec sighed and sank down to sit with his back against the wall, pulling Jace with him.

“And what about this time? What could you have done to stop it?” 

“I could have put up more of a fight.” Jace replied in a more heated tone “I could have tried to stop it, at the end I just let him go!”

“You said it yourself” said Alec in a quiet voice “it was Simon’s decision to make” 

They sat in silence for a few minutes after that lost in their own thoughts, Jace staring at the pendant in his hand. 

“Simon and Jordan were the only friends I’ve ever had, apart from you.”

When Alec didn’t say anything Jace continued.

“During those weeks when I was avoiding everyone I practically lived with them. Simon took me to a mundane supermarket and forced me to eat. And we spent hours with Jordan just playing video games and watching crap day time TV.” Jace sighed “I think I just liked to know what it was like to feel normal. Not some shadowhunter prodigy destined to save the world just……normal. 

“Some normality would be nice” Alec agreed before they fell back in to silence.

This time it was Alec who broke it.

“I’ll try and find a way to bring him back” promised Alec “Magnus will help. We can try to find a loophole.” Alec sighed “but until then we have to go and help with the clean-up. Come on.

Alec reached out a hand and pulled Jace up, giving his hand a small squeeze before dropping it and moving to turn away.

“Alec…” Jace stopped him and Alec turned back to face him.

“Thank you”

Alec gave Jace a small smile before turning and walking back towards the Accords Hall.

Jace stood there for a moment and took a deep breath lifting up the Praetor Lupus pendant and fastening it around his neck. He tucked it under his clothes so that you could only see the chain and set off after Alec to help with the clean-up.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow that was long for me. Is it just me or does Jace sound quite whiny? Ah well please leave a review to tell me how it was. This story was un beta’d so sorry for any mistakes.  
> I'm leaving this as a oneshot as we all know what happens to simon after this (he goes to the academy)
> 
> Oddikins


End file.
